


Bloodline

by Megchad22



Series: Hell [3]
Category: Hellraiser & Related Fandoms, Leverage
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, puzzle box
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-15 00:43:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21024953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megchad22/pseuds/Megchad22
Summary: Blood remembers. Four bloodlines were present at the creation of the Puzzle box. All four converge on a single individual.





	Bloodline

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry, this is about 98% exposition but it is is necessary. Almost all the pieces are in place, I hope. This comes about because I re watched Hellraiser three and realized that Pinhead's human name was Elliot Spencer

Blood remembers. It remembers histories never spoken, never taught. It remembers lessons learned too late and taught too early. It remembers curses.

The curse of the L’Merchant line is twofold and not at all what mortals believed it to be. The apprentice Jaques told Phillip L’Merchant that the curse was a consequence of the Box’s creation, of being the hands that shaped the box and released the demons into our world. This is patently false.

The first curse of L’Merchant was his and his alone. It comes not from carving the box but from bearing witness to D’Isles’s rites. Anyone who bore witness to those foul rituals would be drawn into Leviathan's realm.It was L’Merchant himself that created the curse on his bloodline when he took the Box and gave it to his pregnant wife, when he charged his family with the destruction of gateway. 

But his was not the only bloodline to consider. For there were others who had been present that night and unlike the toymaker magic lived in that blood. D’Isle’s blood flowed through many unclaimed children in the streets of Paris and two to whom he had given his name. A son and a daughter. The son denied his blood and the magic and joined the church to cleanse his soul. The daughter learned in secret what her father believed a woman incapable of. She too watched, hidden, as a piece of Leviathan was crafted into Angelique. 

Without the arrogance her father carried around like a cloak she saw the danger Jaques posed, this man who her father wanted her to marry after his apprenticeship was over. This man that watched the demon Angelique with covetous eyes. Only hours before Jaques took control she made her escape, but not before Jaques took from her what he believed to be his, and left something in return. She fled France, taking with her all that she could carry. This woman was cunning and careful. She set herself up as a widow with a moderate amount of money in England. She bore twin girls to whom she taught all her secrets and no man touched her again. 

There was one final mortal bloodline present that night. A french prostitute, hungry and all alone in the world. Never baptized. A perfect sacrifice. A secret mother. Her son, a nameless orphan in cruel world. A child who would go to church every Sunday and never knew that the priest who spoke was the son of the man who killed his absent mother. An echo of this woman did remain within Angelique and these remnants caused her to seek out the child and lay a demonic sigil upon his blood so that she might always find them. He would grow to become a hard worker neither rich nor poor. His great grandchild would cross the Atlantic, looking for a new life. 

As these lines spread their histories were forgotten but the blood remembered. It is interesting to note that those born with L’Merchant blood, no matter the family name, had a higher tendency toward military service and a significantly higher chance of seeking a Puzzle Box. The magic in the D’Isle blood also drew the Box, often encountering the original. A quirk of that magic meant that the gateways to the Labyrinth behaved oddly with their bloodline. 

Such was the case of the Cotton’s, descended from the younger D’Isle twin. Frank, who followed the buzz in his blood straight to the original Box, the first to escape. Larry, who denied his blood, even weakened was strong enough to bring his twin brother back. Kirsty, who could open and close the doors, she was strong enough to find the truth of the cenobites and strong enough to bring the child of two worlds into being.

On the other side a daughter of the L’Merchant line cut ties with her family to marry into an English family, the Spencer’s. Her grandson, Elliot would go onto to a moderately distinguished military career before disappearing into the box, leaving behind a wife and child. He would emerge the Black Pope, Pinhead. 

His son would grow up to move to the American South, to establish the American branch of the family, he would marry a local woman; the descendant of the nameless prostitute. Pinhead’s grandson would find and marry another daughter of the D’Isle line. They would have one child, a son they named after his great grandfather. And so another Elliot Spencer came into the world. The culmination of the four mortal bloodlines present at the Box’s creation. 

The first time Elliot Spence realized he was damned was in 1996, during what he didn’t know was his last Black Ops assignment. It was not the first time he had been betrayed by members of his team, nor was it even the first time a superior had tried to kill him. It was, however, the first time that the US government had sent a whole team against him. He was considered too good, he must be rogue. As the bullets hit him the last piece of the 18 year old who just wanted to serve his country died. Irony is that in another part of the world, at the same moment that Elliot Spencer is slipping into darkness a cousin that he had never known was giving his life to ensure his own son’s safety. 

A voice sounded from the darkness. “It is not your time yet.” 

Elliot was startled to find that he was standing in the darkness. The agony of the bullets reduced to a dull ache. “Grampa?”

“In a manner of speaking, my dear boy. What a mess.”

The black ops peered into the pitch surrounding him, “I can’t see you.”

“That’s probably for the best, you’re not ready to see what will become of you.”

“What will become...Grampa, what is going on?Where are we?”

The darkness seemed to shiver in a way that somehow reminded Elliot of a shrug. “We’re mostly in your mind, where the edges of it meet Hell.”

“Hell?”

The darkness shivered again, “It’s as good a name as any, probably the most accurate by what’s going on.”

“What is going on?”

“What’s going on is that you are not meant to die now. You have much left to do, my boy, before your time comes. We don’t have long. You’re going to wake up soon.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You won’t for many years. Just know that you will have earned your place here by the time you arrive but your spot was reserved by you blood.”

Elliot woke with a start, no sign that he had been shot. Around him was carnage, bodies torn apart and blood everywhere. The only thing intact was a slightly blood soaked packet of papers. When he looked he found it was the official orders to have him killed. He put the packet in his pack and started off toward the nearest village. 

It took him three weeks to make it back to friendly territory, another two before he got ahold of the only military man he could trust. Lt Colonel Vance. He presented the Orders proving that his chain of command was corrupt. The Special Forces upper command was grateful, grateful enough to honorably discharge Elliot as a reward for his years of service.

Elliot tried to go back to his former self, the boy with the flag in his heart. It worked for a few months with Amy there to soothe the cracks. Then she started hinting at having a family. All Elliot could think was reserving another spot in Hell. He couldn’t do that to his child. It was telling how easy leaving was. 

Elliot, using the skills he had obtained in the military, quickly became well known for his violence and his quick resolution of problems. Then he came to Damian Moreau’s attention. He only worked for Moreau for two years. And it was in those two years he felt the moment he earned his place in Hell. It took six months after that to extricate himself from Moreau’s employ. After that point he made a point of never needing a gun.

In those years he came close enough to death to enter the edge of Hell a total of fourteen times. In each his grandfather spoke to him, told him more of the family history. By the 5th time he was allowed to see the forms of his family, warped by Hell. On his last visit, just prior to being contacted by Victor Dubenich, he spoke to his namesake for the first time. It was only for a moment or two and all Elliot got out of it was the solution to a mystery dating back to World War II. 

Elliot had faced the fact that he was damned to Hell many times since 1996. But it was over a decade later, after the election in San Lorenzo, that he finally accepted his blood and all it entailed. In that time he had people not only worth dying for and fighting for but worth living for. People who saw the darkness in him and did not flinch away. People who had surprised him with their acceptance. 

If he had been asked, back when they had just formed Leverage Inc, which pair of his current partners would be able to see him for all that he was he would have answered Nate and Sophie. There would have been no doubt or hesitation in his mind. Parker and Hardison had seemed too innocent to look into the abyss, too pure to have anything to do with the likes of him; for all that they broke the law as readily as the rest. 

Nate’s demons were carved into every line of skin, every drink, every word. For all his foibles, though, he was at heart a good man. He was not interested in the experiences Hell had to offer and despite his catholic guilt he was not condemned. The demons that haunted Nate were not the whispers of the Hell touched but earthly memories and it blinded him to Elliot’s truth. It may have even been for the better. Elliot could already see that Nate lacked the true qualities needed to be successfully twisted by Hell, he would become one of the hollowed out masses used as fodder and power; chasing shadows for eternity. 

He really has thought Sophie could truly see him up until they went after Blackpoole and the David’s. The way she could slip into another’s skin seemed like the magic his D’Isle blood whispered about. The comments she made sometimes seemed too knowing to be anything but a direct connection to Hell. Then she conned them, the betrayal of it stung. What had stung worse were her justifications, the minute flinch in the face of his anger. It was in that moment Elliot realized she could not possibly handle the darkness lurking at the edges of his brain. When they went their separate ways he vowed that he would not drag them down with him. He was prepared to walk away completely. 

Except…

Parker moved in ways that also whispered of old magic sunken into the bloodline. The D’Isle blood in her called to his. This madwoman chased her high with a childlike innocence that belied the calculating mind underneath. Twenty pounds of crazy in a five pound bag. Throughout the years he saw hints of the sadism that lived in the dark corners of his mind. She did not live in violence but her retribution was swift and merciless. The day he knew for sure was the day they went after the false psychic. The echoes of her despair as it turned to anger rippled with the Levithan’s own brand of madness. In that moment he recognized not just her blood but her command. If Nate had not offered a better alternative nothing would have stopped him from ripping the mark apart for hurting her. 

With Hardison it was different. His blood did not contain the cursed lines. His curiosity was not drawn to the heights of pleasure and pain. He did not come into contact with Hell though accident or chance. Hardison had chosen to look into the Abyss in a way that neither Elliot of Parker had. He had chosen it solely for them. Elliot had not recognized it happening but looking back, he could see the minute changes, even before they faced Blackpoole. Little hints that Hardison of all people looked at them and saw the twisting morass of darkness, and then chose to hover at the edge of that darkness until it was time for them to step in together. It was when they failed to catch the train that Nate had stolen from that Elliot realized Hardison could see him. The other man had stopped him and asked what he had smelled. What his senses were telling him; what the magic in his blood was telling him. No words needed to be said after that. 

But even after finding them some part of him resisted what his bloodline meant. It was not until San Lorenzo that he accepted himself fully. 

He had left from Nate and Sophie to their celebratory drinking. Under the cover of darkness he crept closer to his target. The part of him that belonged to Hell felt the pull of Parker’s blood long before he saw her. She was waiting by the heating vents leaning down to Damian Moreau dark little cell. There was a funny smile on her face when he approached. One that grew wider as Hardison stumbled out of the darkness a few minutes after Elliot arrived, he could not be as silent as Elliot or Parker but he was quiet enough that they had not drawn undo attention. 

Parker was looking at the heating vent with interest. Elliot sighed, “Hardison can’t survive that vent, yet, Parker.”

With only the three of them present there was no point in pretending that he and Parker couldn’t survive the heat vent. Nor did they need to pretend that someday Hardison wouldn’t be just as hardy as they were. 

Parker frowned in disappointment. “Do you have a way to get us all down there, then?” 

Elliot nodded, eyeing the shadows. “This place...a lot of bad things happened here. Monstrous things. That gives us options.”

A voice echoed from the shadowy corners, “Indeed it does, my boy.”

A smiled fluttered across Elliots face, “Grandfather, I knew the barrier was thin enough.”

There was a click as Elliots grandfather stepped into the light. The source of the sound were shards of glass embedded into his feet. This was a new addition judging from the blood and pus leaking from the cuts. Razor wire wrapped diagonally over his head, covering his eye, his mouth and nose were left untouched. His hands were twisted into a facsimile of claws and glass shards made long point nails. Though his clothing was the same meld of leather and pain as the other cenobites it was remarkably tame for his new species. 

Eliot felt tremendous pride when Hardison didn’t flinch from the gruesome sight. He does twitch a bit nervously but that is acceptable. (Elliot would have no way of knowing this but it is the same nervous energy that would emerge when faced with Archie, Parker’s chosen father). 

Parker leaned closer, curiosity bleeding off of her as she peered at his claws. “Did you get you choose that?”

This surprised a guffaw of laughter from Elliot’s grandfather even if made Elliot want to bury his head in his hands. Elliot was more than a little surprise when another voice answered, feminine this time, from the shadows. “Yes and no. Most who come to this realm have the Engineer to rebuild them. Our families and those we claim have a little more control because we rebuild each other but it takes longer.”

The woman who stepped from the shadows look surprisingly human. The only mutilation to her flesh were strips of skin peeled away from her chest to hang down her back. Unlike most of the family Elliot had met she still sported a full head of hair. 

Elliot peered at her with suspicion, particularly as his grandfather dipped his head in reverence. He let his voice take his drawal a step further than usual. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

The woman nodded agreeably, “I only recently came back, I’m Kirsty. It’s good to meet you cousins.”

That would explain the reverence. Elliot had only met a select few of his family members through his visits but everyone knew of Kirsty, the daughter of D’Isle blood who could enter and exit the Labyrinth at will. The rumor was that she denied Hell three times, then walked into labyrinth like royalty. 

Elliot bowed his head a touch,”It’s good to meet you, cousin”

Kirsty smiled back, “I’m guessing you’re hoping to travel through the Labyrinth to reach this... Moreau.” 

Elliot nodded, “If possible. It seems like the best way to get to him without anyone seeing.”

Kirsty caulked her head, “It would take Leviathan great effort to rearrange the Labyrinth. What is in in for Hell.”

“Moreau, for one. He is far from innocent.”

Elliots grandfather snorted with derision, “You know better than that, my boy. One soul is not worth what it would cost. Especially not some weak little pissant like Moreau. His torment would barely feed the Engineer’s failures. Plus there is the energy need to collect him.”

Hardison shifted nervously, “Actually...you just get us to him, you will not need to use any energy to collect him.”

Then he pulled a Box from his bag. It was in pristine condition, but then all the Boxes ever created would stay the way. There was something about it that pulsed with recognition to Elliot’s senses. It was very distinctive feeling.

Elliot furrowed his brow. “That’s the Original.”

Hardison nodded, “Took some digging to trace the path of the Box, but...Age of the Geek.”

Kirsty was now looking at Hardison with a strange look, “You didn’t try to open it.”

The look caused Parker to take a proprietary step closer to Haridson, seemingly without realizing it. Hardison just shook his head, “Nah, there’s no need. I only got it to make sure that when the time came, my family wasn’t going to go somewhere I couldn’t. Good insurance but I don’t need it otherwise.”

Something rippled in the shadows around them at Hardison’s words. Elliot recognized the bone deep approval from all the family past. 

Kirsty had a wide, approving smile on her face. “While that does make things easier and almost worth it to collect Moreau, it is still not enough.”

When Parker spoke, still standing closer to Hardison than usual, “The act of traveling through the Labyrinth to the lower cell will effect the places of entry and exit. If we punch through here and Damian Moreau’s cell that leaves two new gateways to draw others in. You pull in the guilty as they come down. There are plenty of guilty souls on this island and I’m sure most will find their way down here eventually. Frankly, it will do more to clean up the San Lorenzo government than a dozen election.”

Kirsty smiled, pleased. “It will be good to have more clever women when it is finally your time to come home, my future general. That is the reasoning the Leviathan needs to exert itself on your behalf. Now come, you will need to be escorted so the others do not think you three are fair game. Oh, Hardison?”

“Yes.”

“After this you will not need a Box, you’ve earned your place among our family.”

Surprised pleasure lurked at the corners of Hardison’s eyes. His mouth split into a beaming, bashful smile that did not falter even as they all stepped into the shadows and entered Hell. Though the path was short, horrors lined the walls. 

To Elliot it seemed as if he should have been worried, particularly about Hardison. He wasn’t. His blood painted the walls and halls of the labyrinth. One day his family would join them. 

They stepped into the hall outside Damian Moreau’s cell. Kirsty and Elliot’s grandfather faded back into the shadows, waiting. 

Moreau looked up as they approached. He made no mention of their sudden appearance but his eyes lit up when he spied Elliot. “Ah, my old friend. I guess you have some loyalty left after all. Or did master send you to gloat.”

Elliot growled, “No gloating. Just a way to even the playing field a bit.”

Parker stepped forward, a frown on her face hiding the mischief in her eyes. “ Are you sure Elliot. I mean after everything he did.”

Hardison seamlessly picked up where Parker left off, radiating concern. “Yeah, man. If anyone deserves to be forgotten in a hole in the ground it’s this bastard.” 

Elliot shrugged, “It’s only right to give him this chance to escape.”

Now Moreau was looking between the three as Hardison gave a careless shrug and produced the Box. He handed it over to Eliiot, “If you say so, man. But I ain’t giving the key to him.”

There was no recognition in Moreau’s eyes at the sight of the Box. Good, it wouldn’t do to give away the game too soon. Elliot approached the cell while Moreau watched the Box with greedy eyes. “A gift, is that for me?”

Elliot forced himself to remain nonchalant, “More of a test, you want out of that cell. Solve the Puzzle.”

Moreau didn’t say another word as he snatched the box from Elliot’s hand. It was difficult to keep the satisfaction of his face as the imprisoned man began poking at his damnation. It was done. 

Kirsty lead them back to the surface, just as the first notes began to play. 


End file.
